


ridge

by razzrheaa



Series: Conscience Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5745217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/razzrheaa/pseuds/razzrheaa





	ridge

It had been weeks since Draco had let himself be closer to Potter than absolutely nessisary. Potions class was a strained affair and Snape, never one to show real favourtism, paired Draco together with Potter all the bloody time.  "If there is some life threatening reason, Draco?" The Potions Master probed, looking up at him from a thick volume of some obscure Latin text. Draco said nothing. Severus had never used Legilimency on him, but those eyes bore against his face and Draco felt the embarassment rise on his cheeks. "Then there should not be an excuse not to pair you with Mister Potter." Draco stood there, worrying at his lip, wanting to say something, anything... But no words came and, in the end, Draco was forced to sulk back to his rooms.  
  
Sitting next to each other was a small form of torture. Draco could smell soap and oranges each time Potter would move, could feel the heat roll off the other boy in waves and he had to stifle a whimper each time they accidentally touched.  
  
"Keep your hands to yourself," Draco snapped one day, unable to take any more contact. "Weasel germs are contagious. Heaven forbid if I wake up with red hair," and he ran a hand against his scalp for good measure.  
  
Harry says nothing, just lifts his lashes at him nonchanlantly with a small smile on his face.  
  
Draco watches as Harry cuts at the dry ginger root, fingers short and blunt. He wonders what they would feel like against his spine or the wide swath of skin at his flank. Potter puts down the knife on the cutting board and flexes his fingers. His knuckles stand out prominently every time he makes a fist and for the first time Draco notices a small scar on the middle knuckle. He keeps looking at it as he stirs the cauldron.  
  
"This is from you," Harry says suddenly, quietly. It is said in the voice of idle chatter, like the scar on his hand is a conversational point equivalent to _'The weather is looking nice today...'_  
  
Draco lifts his eyes to Potter's face, startled, and he feels his cheeks grow hot at getting caught in the act. He twitches a questioning eyebrow.  
  
"I hit you hard enough that it split the skin," the boy continues, rubbing at the scar with his fingers. Draco can hear the way the pads shift over Potter's dry skin and he has the mad urge to lick along the path those fingers take, feel the raised skin against his tongue.  
  
"And this is my fault how?" He can feel the saliva gathering in his mouth, clogging his throat; he clears it. "Wouldn't you be the one to blame for hitting me?" He asks, turning to the board momentarily. He has the damned Potion memorized already but it gives him a chance to look away from Harry's eyes.  
  
"It's your fault because you said something horrible about Ron," Harry says, still calm. Still talking about _'My, my it looks like there will be some rain later on this evening.'_  
  
Draco scoffs and looks back down to his parchment which also has a list of ingredients and directions that are an exact copy of the ones on the blackboard. "If he hadn't trod on my foot like the oaf he is the entire situation would have been avoided." His eyes scan the paper in a blur, not retaining any sort of information. He picks up the dried ginger Potter had been cutting and stares at it. For some reason it looks strange; it has a funny shape and Draco, for the life of him, cannot think of what is wrong with it. He shakes himself and looks up at the board again, starting to feel irritated with himself. Christ, if they would just finish this, he could leave and have a wank in under ten minutes. But Potter wants to _t_ _alk_ instead of do actual work.  
  
"If you hadn't been loitering around the entrance way," Harry starts while Draco adds five, three-inch strips, "Ron wouldn't have bumped into you." Harry looks at the board as well, absently scanning the steps they have done and the steps they have yet to do.  
  
"I assure you, Potty, he nearly ran me down like a rabid snorkack," he says, stirring counter-clockwise. The potion should be turning a deep red but it is gradually deviating from red to blue to purple and his cauldron is humming softly.  
  
"Malfoy, how many dried ginger strips did you add?" Harry asks nervously.  
  
"However many you gave me," He says, panic setting in under his skin. He looks at the board and finds **_ginger root, dried: three (3), five-inch strips_** and looks up at Potter who looks like all the world is going to come crashing down any moment.  
  
The liquid bubbles and starts to steam and crackle.  
  
Draco has a brief flash of anger before preservation kicks in and he grabs at Harry's robes, pulling him under the table to shield him from the explosion that sets off a chain reaction with the rest of the classroom. The other students' potions only gurgle and start to pop bubbles and become inert but their potion overflows from the lip of the cauldron and starts to slowly heat the things it touches. He throws up a _Protego_ and watches as the red liquid slides down the barrier. Harry is heavy against him, warm and solid. He doesn't realize their position until he looks up and sees Potter looking down at him, green eyes wide behind his glasses. His lips part and a warm breath escapes. Harry licks his lips, eyes darting all over Draco's face and he is slowly coming closer.  
  
"How much ginger did you give me?" Draco asks, breathless. Distantly, he can hear the chaos beyond his shield, but that's not important - Harry is close and getting closer still...  
  
"I gave you five pieces," Harry says, matter-of-factly, as if his mistake didn't almost melt their faces off.  
  
"You were supposed to give me three," Draco says, watching the way Harry's pulse flutters against his throat. His hand is still fisted in Potter's robes, holding the body's shoulder down against him.  
  
"I made a mistake," he replies, shifting against Draco and _oh..._  
  
"You almost got us killed," Draco says, wiggling against Harry and oh... _oh Merlin_...  
  
"We're okay," Harry says and presses tightly against Draco, pressing his pelvis up into the vee of Draco's thighs. _Oh fuck_.  
  
"Why are you hard?"  
  
"You are, too," and Harry bears down with his hips and he's suddenly grinding against Draco like it isn't a two foot space that they are trapped in. Harry's cock is a blunt pressure against Draco's thigh and if he just shifted a little to the left they would be... _ah!._.. sliding against each other through their trousers. Draco grips hard at Harry's shoulder as he bucks up and Harry pushes down. The other boy's hand is at his hip, stilling him and there are fingers against his skin now, right against the band of his trousers, Harry's thumb softly stroking at his waist and Draco is going to lose it.  
  
"D-don't," Potter commands and Draco's anger flares a little wildly. Harry stills his hips and presses his forehead against Draco's. His skin is sticky and he smells so fucking _good_. Draco stretches forward and licks along the curved line of Potter's neck, tasting sweat and skin that isn't his own and he's bucking up into Harry, snaking a hand around the other boy's back, pulling him down and on top of him and they're both moaning at the increased contact. _Fucking shite_ , he hears Harry curse and rubs against him a little harder, biting down on his lip. Draco nips at Harry's earlobe, using his teeth to pull at the skin. His tongue swirls at the hollows and creases.  
  
"Fuck you, Potter. I'm coming with or- _nnhng-_  with-hout you," he manages, sliding his palm up Harry's back. The boy's body is hot and it's making Draco start to sweat, too. He twines his fingers into Potter's hair and it's soft, like plunging his hand into an open pillow of goose feathers. He groans and pulls at the short locks at the base of Harry's neck. Potter concedes, exposing his throat. Draco runs the tip of his tongue against tan skin and over the ridge of Harry's Adam apple. There's a gritty, dirty taste, but under that, the smell of cheap soap and ash. Draco's mouth moves up Harry's chin and he's nipping at the hard jut of the boy's jaw, sliding his lips over the boy's cheek, stopping for just a moment to think about this, to think that they are still in class and could get caught and be sentenced to detention for the rest of their natural born lives and even into the hereafter... but then the corner of Harry's mouth is right there, right under his mouth, and he's looking at Draco with his fucking (amazing) green eyes...  
  
Harry's lips are dry and chapped and they don't really feel good against Draco's, but they're soft and pliant and then, heaven's above, Harry opens his mouth on a sigh and Draco sneaks his way in, tongue sliding against the slick, startled muscle inside Harry's mouth. He feels Harry's groan against his chest, a deep rumble and a renewed interest in rubbing against him and Salazar he's going to come and make a big mess in his trousers, but that's okay, it's okay because Harry, too, Harry's just as close - and now Harry is fighting him, pushing against his tongue, struggling against him, breathing into his mouth... _whimpering_...  
  
**_Fuck._**  
  
Draco comes, tearing his mouth away and stilling against Harry's body, jerking his hips and riding out his orgasm against Harry's thigh.  Harry comes shortly after, his entire body shuddering.  
  
He all but collapses onto Draco, propping himself up on wobbly arms. Draco shifts and leans his back against the panel of the desk. He pulls Potter against him and touches at the boy's face, pushing back his bangs from a sweaty forehead. They are both panting hard. Draco feels for his wand, locates it under his leg and murmurs a charm to clean the both of them and the uncomfortable feeling of wet fabric dissipates.  
  
"Don't think this changes anything, Potter," Draco says, running his fingers through Harry's hair, almost petting him, almost drifting to sleep but he sees the red potion slowly being contained by their teacher.  
  
"Of course," Harry says, but Draco knows, like how he knows that he will soon come to know everything about Potter, that it sounds like an empty promise.


End file.
